My Dear Rosanna
by claireska
Summary: Donny Donowitz didn't join the Inglorious Basterds not only for his hatred of Natzi's, but so he could end his life to see his dear Rosanna once again. Donny/OC ONESHOT


There was a reason for the hatred and rage in the chocolate eyes of Donny Donowitz. It wasn't fully for the murder the Natzi's committed and their lack of humanity towards innocent civilians. It was for the loss of his one and only love that was supposed to be his until he died. As the clock ticked away the seconds of the bomb that was attached to his calf and as he shot Hitler's already lifeless body, he could only think about how he would be able to see his sweet Rosanna again. She was the only reason why he even joined the Inglorious Basterds and why he offered to do this mission; it was all for her.

She stared at herself in the mirror, holding a tissue up to her bleeding nose. The tissue was already covered in blood. It had been bleeding for the past hour. She didn't dare wake Donny, for she didn't want him to worry. She knew she was sick, but whenever Donny insisted on going to the doctor's, she would push it off, saying she already felt better. But, in truth, she was feeling worse. At times, she would have difficulty breathing, she would get chills even when Donny had a fire going in the living room, and she always found it painful to swallow. She would get coughing fits while she tried to sleep and she woke up to her voice being almost, or completely gone. She had been like this for the past week and Donny wasn't the only one worrying about her health.

She heard the floor boards creak from weight in their bedroom that happened to adjoin the bedroom. A light knock resounded on the closed bathroom door and she quickly threw out the tissue. She turned on the tap of the small sink and ran her fingers under the water, quickly trying to rinse away the dried blood on her upper lip.

"Rosy?" She heard Donny say. She washed the blood from her fingers and turned off the sink. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to sustain herself. She refused to let any worry appear on her features. Slowly lifting her lids, she went to the door and opened it, smiling at her husband. She could tell he was worried in his tired eyes. She could tell he was searching in her eyes for some stray of worry and she hoped she covered it up well. "Another nose bleed?" She was shocked that he knew, but tried to hide it as quickly as it appeared. She furrowed her brows, trying to seem confused by his question.

"What are you talking about?" she asked. His eyes quickly glanced down at her night shirt and she followed it, noticing the spots of fresh blood on it.

"Why are you lying to me about this?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of anger and worry. She quickly brought her attention up to her husband. His nostrils were flared with anger and his bare, hairy chest raised up and down with anger. She wasn't terrified. She had seen Donny at his worst and this wasn't it. And, he would never lay a finger on her. Of course they would get into the occasional fight, but she knew he wasn't angry over her making a clumsy decision that would risk her life; he was angry because he was worried to death about her.

"It's because," she started, sighing heavily and finding an interest in the wooden floor. "I don't want you to worry about me. That's all." She heard him scoff, then felt the back of his fingers brush against her cheek. She slowly lifted her head, her hazel eyes catching his chocolate ones.

"Will you please, just please, let me take you to the doctor's tomorrow?" he asked. She sighed heavily. "Rosy, just please." He closed his eyes. "Go for my sanity. Just, please." He reopened them.

"Fine," she muttered. She didn't want to go; she hated the doctor's. But, Donny barely had any sanity left as it was. If she didn't go, any sanity he had left would be gone.

Tears filled her eyes as the doctor left the room. Her hand reached up and cupped her neck. She had no idea how bad it had gotten. She had diphtheria and the doctor's had no cure. He told her that her throat was infected for now, but soon, her heart and other organs were going to get infected. He wouldn't answer her when she asked if it was fatal, but his disappointed bow of his head answered it all. She didn't even realize Donny was still in the room until she felt his arms evelope her shaking body, pressing her face into his chest. She grabbed onto his brown leather jacket for dear life, trying to bring him closer to her as she sobbed into his chest. She didn't know if she had lost it herself, but she could hear him sobbing and she felt his lips press gently against the top of her head.

"We'll get through this, babe," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. She knew he was trying to reassure her, but they weren't helping. She was going to die. There was no cure; there was no such thing as getting through this.

Donny Donowitz stood in the rain, completely soaked head to toe, staring at the small headstone of Rosanna Donowitz. His tears melted into the rain dops that fell down his face as he held the bouquet of red roses in his hand. The small portion of heart that he had left was pounding hard against his chest and his lungs felt like they were collapsing beneath his rib cage. It had only been a year since she passed, but it felt like yesterday that her hand went limp in his; that she whispered "I love you" before she took her last breath. He had watched her go from healthy, to bed-ridden, to deathly sick in a week. It had happened to fast that he thought he was going insane.

He kneeled down on the muddy grass and leaned forward, letting his fingers trail against the engraved lettering. He missed her so much; he missed her laugh, her smile, her humor, her love, her acceptance; everything about her. She was destined to be his and now she was gone; slipped through the spaces between his fingers like sand.

He glanced down at the roses and placed them next to the headstone. He grabbed the last bouquet he left, which was still filled with lively red roses. He replaced the bouquet every week, even if the roses still looked fresh. He still made sure that, even after death, she would still get everything she deserved; even if it was as simple as a new bouquet of roses every week.

A small smile flashed upon Donny's lips as he felt the heat of the burning theatre against his skin. He watched as his gun made Hitler's face into a complete mess of tiny holes. He was happy that he was ending the war, but most of all, he was happy he would see Rosanna's face again. Even if he deserved to be in Hell, he was going to make it to Heaven whether God wanted it or not. He wasn't going to let anything stop him.

He counted down from five in his head, knowing that the bomb's clock was almost done.

5.

He thought of her the first day he saw her. She was sitting at the bar, a beer in front of her and a lit cigarette between her fingers. He remembered how rebellious he thought she was; how attractive she was for being in a bar drinking a beer and not a glass of champagne.

4.

The first date to the movies, which ended up in a battle of kissing in the front seat of his banged up car.

3. The first time they made love. She was so beautiful, even with her long, brown hair sticking to her forehead and her lipstick smeared from his harsh kisses.

2. The day he first said the words, "I love you".

1. He put on her wedding ring and meant it when he said "Till death do us part."


End file.
